


Cross My Heart

by Crazycatlady90



Series: Cross My Heart [1]
Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-19
Updated: 2014-05-29
Packaged: 2018-01-16 07:23:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 9
Words: 17,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1336933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crazycatlady90/pseuds/Crazycatlady90
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eco-Terrorism suspect James McAvoy claims to be innocent; but in a prison where trials and evidence mean next to nothing, he is slowly being broken. Things come to a head when he mysteriously escapes and has no idea how he did it. Caught, tortured and terrified, he is interrogated by Lt. Michael Fassbender, one of the best the army has to offer. Michael is as intrigued by the improbable escape as he is with his seemingly untameable prisoner. What goes on within the walls of his prison will make or break James McAvoy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Day One**

**10.05 pm**

_James. I’m James._

He repeats to himself when he feels everything slipping away. Behind the gag and the tears this is who he is.

The mirror facing him reveals a broken man handcuffed to a chair. The door opens a fraction and a man enters. James has never seen him before; this is not necessarily a good thing.

“James…” His name is spoken with a great deal of familiarity. The man is only a touch away; he shivers despite the warmth proximity brings.

“So close…I don’t think anyone’s ever gotten as far out as you did.” The man circles him crisply.

James stares straight ahead refusing to look him in the face. _Do not look him in the eyes, do not engage him._ The gaunt face in the mirror is fearful.

“You’re not the first to try to escape, you know. Everyone finds a way sooner or later. Then they think they’re tough.” The last sentence is said with an amused disregard.

Without warning the man leans forward: “So are you? Are you unbreakable?”

James cringes severely. The man's indecipherable expression becomes feral. “I really don’t think so, James.”

“Michael…” Strong light floods the room as the door is thrown open. James recognizes Jennifer’s image on the mirror. She doesn’t look at James or indicate in any way that she is aware of his presence.

Michael does not hide his annoyance; immediately James knows that this is not someone he should mess with (Too late). “Are you kidding me? I told you expressly-”

“I’m sorry Michael” Jennifer continues, managing to look apologetic before he could finish. “Something urgent’s come up. I think you should come see for yourself.”

“And here I was, just about to have some fun with Mr. McAvoy …” Michael states with a sudden and unnerving coolness.

“Come on…” Jennifer makes an agitated show of hand. James, knuckles white from where he was gripping the chair too hard, sees her nails bite into her palm. “It’s not like he’s going anywhere.”

James goes completely still in reply. Michael allows himself a small smile. “True…he’s definitely not going anywhere.” A long finger ghosts along James’s jaw before Jennifer’s exasperation wins.

Michael is gone just as quickly as he’d appeared. Jennifer’s stilettos click away merrily, following him. The light is over.

 _I’m James._ He repeats to his double in the mirror. _I’m James._

**Day Two**

**12.45 am**

Michael is back and he is pissed. He is flanked by a young guard armed with a baton.

James swallows nervously and the guard, Laurio on his name tag, smacks his lips in anticipation.

“Where were we?” Michael asks tearing the gag away. Suddenly he is behind James and yanking a handful of his dark brown hair. James lets out a soft gasp.

“Yes, I believe you had some very important information to share. You’re going to tell me exactly how you escaped, aren’t you?”

“I am James. I am James. I am James.” He screws his eyes shut as he chants his own name.

Michael almost releases him in shock. He’d gotten used to James’s non-response. The guard’s hand settles instinctively on the baton, only the imperceptible no from Michael stays him. James is rewarded with a tighter, more painful grip on his hair.

“I can’t begin to tell you how pleased I am that you can talk. Now, I suggest you start telling me things I want to hear.”

“Yours is the biggest I’ve ever seen.” James says in the same flat tone.

“Keep it up and I’ll know exactly what to do with that mouth of yours.” Michael snarls. James presses into the chair tensely. He can tell how pleased Michael is with the effect of his threat.

Laurio giggles obscenely, snaking the baton up his thighs. James jerks his leg away: “Don’t touch me.”

Laurio reacts faster than Michael anticipates. James feels the vicious throb of the baton across his face. “Laurio!” Michael hisses.

But James moans, his head sinking under pain.

Michael goes down on his haunches, whispering in James’s ears: “What d’you say James? Would you like to talk to Mr. Laurio? He tells me he can get me everything I want and more from you. All I have to do in return is leave you with him.” The threat is too real, too close for James.

Michael runs his hand along the sheer V-neck James is wearing. For the first time, he feels James resisting and trying to pull away. Michael puts all of his muscle into keeping him still. James can see Laurio’s chubby hands straining not to touch him again; he can see a bulge in his pants.

Laurio is rabid with arousal. James cannot stop squirming, he knows what is coming. “Pretty isn’t he, Laurio?” Michael’s gaze never moves from James. For a moment, he catches the predatory look in Michael’s eyes and cannot decide who to be afraid of. But it’s soon clouded over by cunning.

“Yeah…Lord, gimme half an hour…” Laurio nods with vigor.

“You did try to escape. It’s only fair you’re punished.”

A half formed plea, so small that only Michael catches it. Please.

“James, I am trying to help you here. I’m offering you the chance to tell me the truth, and spare yourself a whole world of pain.”

James sniffles slightly and nods; “That wasn’t so hard, was it?” Michael lightens up as he pulls up a chair within inches of him.

“That’s all right then, Mr. Laurio. You can wait outside. I’ll call you in if we need you.” He orders brusquely; Laurio’s disappointment was epic as he dragged himself out.

James shakes, silently tearing over. Michael lifts James’s face gently by the chin. “Trust me, you do not want to keep me waiting. I don’t need Laurio to make you talk. Always remember this.” He adds, folding his arms. James nods hesitantly.

Michael stretches his legs out, his feet are locked with the front legs of James’s chair. As he speaks, he tips the chair slightly backward, rocking a startled James and all.

“Describe everything from the start. You were locked in your cell at 7.00 as usual. We know you asked for an extra blanket. This was denied. And that was the last time anyone saw you in your cell. Then the guards on regular night patrol find your cell empty. How?”

“I…It was cold. I just wanted to be w-warm. They said no. I tried to sleep. Then I started walking around-”

“How did you freakin’ get out of the cell?”

“It op-opened.”

“It opened?” Michael asks incredulously. “And you walked out?”

James just looks scared.

“You expect me to believe this? That you walked out of your cell and the cameras mysteriously blitzed out, the outer locks malfunctioned and all the security guards just failed to notice you striding out?”

“Please…I-I didn’t know what to do. I just kept walking. The first door, the second door, the gates. I kept thinking someone would see me and stop me, but nobody did.”

“This is your story?”

“It’s what happened, please…” Michael can hear the desperation and he quite likes the tone of fear. He likes it in James, he realizes.

“I know for a fact you’ve never been let out onto the grounds. How did you know which way to go? ”

“I didn’t…the sea…I followed its sound.”

“That’s smart. That’s what I’d do too” Michael sounds impressed “Is that what they taught you?”

“No one taught me that-”

“Something you picked up on your own, then?” Michael continues “So you’re now out on your own in the middle of winter, with nothing but a cheap prison jumpsuit. Didn’t it occur to you that you might freeze to death?”

“I just w-wanted to go home.” Michael laughs out aloud. His scrapes James’s chair towards him so that he is practically sitting on Michael’s legs. James is stricken as Michael starts rubbing the insides of his legs.

“James, why didn’t it occur to you that you will freeze?” Michael watches as James shakes his head, unsure.

“Because someone was waiting for you. Someone with warm clothes, food and a boat. We found a campfire and footprints leading out into the beach. Who was waiting for you?”

“No one. I didn’t see anyone.”

James feels Michael’s hands stop on his knees. “Listen, it’s my first day at work here. Cut me a break.”

He lets the chair back, it lands on its legs with a metallic clang.

“Please…I wasn’t with anyone. I wasn’t planning to escape. I s-saw a chance and I…I had to take it. I can’t…this place…please…” James’s mouth makes pleasing shapes. Michael finds himself staring at the lips and wondering.

Instead he turns and says to the James in the mirror: “You just won’t be helped, will you? You can talk to me when you feel like ‘fessing up. Other than that I’m not interested in anything else you have to say.”

James is as wildly desperate in the mirror as in real life; he watches Michael call for Laurio.

**2.20 am**

James mewls as Laurio crushes his fingers on the table. Michael chairs the proceedings, comfortably sipping earl grey tea, from the other end of the table. He is entirely silent except occasionally to remind Laurio to take a break.

For the first twenty minutes or so, he ignores James’s high pitched begging. Feeling a headache coming on, he asks Laurio to shut James the hell up. James discovers that a baton repeatedly pushed into the mouth can really shut you the hell up. He stops pleading with Michael, he is at any rate incapable now of saying much other than no and crying softly. Laurio sits himself down on the table, panting with exertion.

Announced by an urgent knocking, Jennifer enters with an older man. Michael scrambles to his feet, respectfully offering up his chair. The man takes the seat. His eyes rake over James, scrutinizing everything about him.

“So he still says he didn’t do anything?” The man has a crinkled voice which reminds James of sand paper.

“So far, Director Stewart.” Michael assents (Call me Patrick, the man smiles at Michael) “He’s just repeated most of what he told the guys who brought him back.”

“You know, I don’t think he’s the type that gives much away.” Stewart hisses. James feels his heart racing. He wants to scream but his mouth is full of ash.

“He’s been here for two weeks and he already knows how to walk out of our cells.” he continues. “And we know practically next nothing about his mission or how he works.”

“I don’t work for anybody, I swear!” James cries and is backhanded by Stewart. “Ms. Lawrence, what’s in McAvoy’s files?”

“He’s Scottish by birth, widely traveled. Worked as a freelance journalist with Reuters; claimed to be still working for them when we got him. They have no records of him since 2009.” Jennifer recites with practiced efficiency.

“How did you capture him?” Michael asks, piqued.

“From New York, asking one of our CIs about where he can get arms for McKellen’s suicide units. We have him boasting on tape that he has the expertise to make bombs and that he has close ties with Ian McKellen himself. Of course, he’s been trying to convince us that he was just trying to do research for a documentary on eco-terrorists.” Jennifer smiles wryly. James sees Michael’s face give away to a calculating frown.

“Thank you Ms. Lawrence. That will be all” Stewart says curtly. Jennifer shoots a kind glance at Michael and a stoic look at James before turning on her heels and speeding away.

“So what to do with you?” Stewart gazes from James to Michael.

“I’d like to ask some more questions-”

“Mr. Fassbender, some things are more urgent, don’t you think?” he suggests meaningfully. James knows this determination.

“I’m not sure I follow.” Michael shrugs.

“This institution is one of the most fortified, one of the safest prisons in the world. When one maximum security inmate just suddenly ups and decides to escape, and does so with very little hassle to his person…well, I don’t think I need to tell you about the kind of grand ideas the rest of them are going to get.”

James whimpers. Michael has never heard a human being make that sound before.

“I’m going to make an example of him. The sight of him, the memory of what happened to James McAvoy is going to be the reason our prisoners are perfect gentlemen.” Stewart rises, nodding briefly at Laurio.

“Must be my Christmas bonus” breathes an excited Laurio.

“You can’t damage him…We need answers” Michael suggests callously, trying to keep up with Stewart.

“Michael, I think I’ll call you Michael…I’m told you are one of the best interrogators the army has.” Michael makes a cursory acknowledgement of sorts. “You questioned the man for over an hour, trying to damage him as little as possible. What answers did you get?”

Stewart stops dead in his tracks and smiles up at Michael. “Let me tell you a little something about their kind…”

Behind them, the door shuts on James’s muffled screams. “They share and care best when they’re damaged.”


	2. Chapter 2

**3.10 pm**

The cell reeks of blood, urine and Laurio.

James hears his own breathing, shallow and pained.

He wants so much to go back to sleep or whatever semblance of sleep he can have.

The sudden voices scare him. He waits for the rape to start all over, for the torture.

When nothing comes, he is exhausted by the knowledge that it will happen again soon.

It hurts his face to cry. James lies as still as he can and pretends to be not alive.

**5.00 pm**

He comes back in degrees of consciousness.

Someone looms over him, examining everything from his swollen right eye to his split lip,the many marks on his chest, his bruised ribs; rolling his pants up to examine his legs and the kicked in knees.

Initially, James knows only that he is being touched. He cowers instinctively.

“This won’t hurt”, a voice says somewhere above him. When he calms down, he feels strong fingers gingerly moving down his ribs.

He twists his body defiantly away, putting up feeble hands for resistance.

“You have spirit, if you have nothing else.” The voice chuckles, hands grab both his wrists and hold them down.

James’s eyes fly open. Michael wears a look of doctoral curiosity; he traces each wound intently.

James trembles uncontrollably. He studies Michael for signs of incoming hurt.

“James, look at me.” Michael croons. James peeks out through the long hair that falls over his face.

“I will tie you up if you’re going to be difficult.” He does not let go till he is convinced that James intends to co-operate.

“I really don’t want you hurt…yet. Would love some answers.” He says matter-of-factly.

James fixes his resigned eyes somewhere on the ceiling.

“Director Stewart is just getting started, you know.” Michael places a firm hand on the bruised hip and brings James’s pants down to his knees.

James comes alive immediately, thrashing his body around to stop Michael, “No, stop, no, no.”

Michael lifts both his hands in the air where James can see them. “All you’re doing is turning me on. Not sure that’s the effect you want to be after.”

James does not doubt this in the slightest. He makes a noise that sounds like surrender and turns his face away.

Michael continues as though nothing happened. He makes James arch his legs and pulls the pants down to his heels.

The smell of blood hits Michael strongly. “Well, obviously Laurio got to do quite the opening number on you.”

His fingers trace regular bite marks on James’s thighs and groin. He does not touch the bloodied hole or the tender skin around it.

“I think it’ll heal better if you give it some air.” Michael pats his feet softly.

James looks back at him, almost without cognition.

“We have work to do, Jamie. You need to tell me how the hell you walked out of this cell! You need to be well enough first.”

“I’m trying to tell you, I have no…” James begins to protest but stops when Michael calmly bends over him, with a hand on either side.

“Oh, and James…trust me when I tell you…If you don’t come out of this wanting to co-operate completely, it’ll be just you and me. And you have no idea just how much you don’t want that to happen.” He finishes in a dangerous voice and leans into take James’s lips.

It happens so fast that James is paralyzed. It is a loving kiss. James pulls out first, sighing in disbelief.

“Get off me.” He says with all the courage he can muster. Michael doesn’t move an inch, just frowns.

“Whore!”

Michael turns surprised to find an ambushed figure of a woman, waif like and already going down on her knees.

“Sir…Sir…I didn’t mean to…I didn’t see you.” Her tag says 1133, her uniform is the tattered blue of the low level security wards. In her hands, he sees a pitcher.

“Get up! Who gave you permission to waltz in?” Michael asks raising himself to full height.

“I…I only meant to wake him…he’s not allowed to sleep Sir.”

Another man in the same uniform stumbles in: “Son-of-a-bitch McAvoy, he’s going to get us all killed.”

The moment he realizes Michael’s presence, he too crouches.

James looks panicked, eyes racing from Michael to the other two inmates.

A burly guard follows the commotion, taser raised. He too crams into the small cell stupidly: “Sir, Lt. Fassbender…Private Corey, sir. Are these three giving you trouble?”

“These two burst in here out of nowhere and this one…” Michael reports, nodding in James’s general direction. “This one is going to be big trouble, I can tell.”

James only eyes him nervously.

“Sir, 1133 and 4390 are volunteers from the blue ward. They have keys to cells here at the infirmary, to help us enforce some of the orders better. What’re you doing here now?” He barks at them.

“9631 is on the sleep deprivation list, sir…”

“And why is that going to get you all killed?” Michael asks the man on the floor.

For a minute, he seems confused and then dismayed that Michael has caught that random snatch of a sentence.

“Sir has an excellent ear. I was only angry that he has given us additional duties.”

“Is that a good answer, Sir?” Corey asks pointedly.

“That’ll do for now.” Michael can see the man’s nervousness; it’s almost like being caught in a lie.

The woman simply clutches her pitcher of water and stares at her own feet.

“You can go” he dismisses the man but turns to the woman, “but you, now that you’re here, I want him cleaned up and taken care of. Medicate his wounds and bandage them. No painkillers. Have him fed too.” The woman nods hurriedly.

He returns to James and sweeps the hair off his face. Michael could not imagine that James would be any more vulnerable or scared, but he manages to do just that.

He shrinks into himself, looking at the woman with what Michael recognizes as trepidation.

“You know each other?” he asks suddenly, his face taking on a wolf-like intensity.

Before James can answer, the woman replies with a shrill “No, Sir.”

Michael glances thoughtfully at her, before giving her a polite nod.

“Behave, James. I’ll know if you haven’t.” He says as he follows Corey and 4390 out.

James closes his eyes and takes a deep breath.


	3. Chapter 3

**11.00 pm**

James is cross-legged on the bed, leaning against the wall when Michael walks in.

He hugs himself at the sight of Michael in his long black coat and layers of clothing.

Snow and wet leaves cling to his hair; it’s obvious that he’s been out in the grounds.

“You won’t believe how cold it is out there.” Michael says casually.

He is working over James as he talks; the covered up right eye, split lip, the numerous cuts and bruises patterned all over, taped knees and fingers buried in gauze.

He wonders if James let the woman clean him up completely.

“You look like a train wreck. Have you been fed at least?” James nods as gently as he can.

Michael takes off his coat and scarf, places himself at the foot of the bed. He can see that James has started reeling from the lack of sleep.

“Director Stewart plans to keep you awake for a while. It’s part of the consequences.”

“I didn’t do it…” James says in a small voice.

Michael smirks. “Where have I heard that before?”

“You don’t understand…I didn’t do any of the things they say I did.”

“Prove it.”

“How do I prove a negative?” James asks bewildered. “What the fuck is wrong with you people?”

Michael cocks his head. “You do realize you’re sleep deprived? You’re going to be saying a lot of things you don’t mean. I’d hate it if you were punished on account of that.”

James just breathes heavily, trying to wrap his head around Michael’s words.

“Listen, all I wanted was to make a documentary.”

“On McKellen?”

“On Eco-terrorism…it’s outlawed. I had to go undercover for research.”

“I listened to the tape. If you were acting, you did one hell of a job.”

“But I was acting.”

“Yet you knew about the bombings at the nuclear substations in Syang Cheng and the gassing incident in the La Petra diamond mines. Both category five classified information, known only as unfortunate accidents to the public. Only two types of people know what really happened. Secret service and the scum who planned that shit.” Michael rubs his hands together gleefully “And you, my dear Jamie McAvoy are not in secret service.”

“I have sources; I know things…that doesn’t make me a terrorist.” James tries to stop the tremor in his voice.

“Your sources were checked out, fictitious dead ends-”

“That was how I knew them! Don’t you see…that was their fail safe…So I can’t give them away. I can’t-” James’s voice breaks.

“I know a very interesting man.” Michael cuts across “Intelligent, Harvard graduate, speaks eight languages. He went and blew up a circus company five years ago. There was no evidence, so the police did nothing. He walked free; even sued his government for wrongful detention and harassment. I’ve got him in interrogation room 3, right now. He’ll own up soon.”

“How do you know?”

“I know when people are ready.”

“What if you’re wrong?” James is anxious.

Michael smiles cannily. “Then I’d be wrong.”

James doesn’t understand.

Michael stands up to leave: “Don’t be falling asleep. I’m sure Stewart has ways of knowing.”

“You’re wrong about me.” James looks him in the eye and doesn’t flinch.

“I’m dying to find out.” Michael is dead serious as he walks out.

“Get well soon, James. I’m waiting.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Day Three**

**5.00 am**

Michael can hear the sea howling, the wind swirling; the makings of a storm.

He imagines James running to someone in the beach, waiting with warm arms. Something stirs in him.

A pang of something alien. Jealousy? He refuses to follow that line of thought. What use would it be really?

_James, the guy didn’t confess yet. I guess I was wrong about him._

Michael has to bite his lips to stop a grin from popping up. Soon he’s aware of Jennifer staring at him.

He wonders if something showed on his face, something that wouldn’t sit well in her mangy office.

“What?” His voice takes on a low rumble.

“You visited 9631 in his cell twice.” Her tone is cautious of suggesting too much.

Michael is convinced he has given his thoughts away somehow. “Yeah, so?” He covers up.

Jennifer laces her fingers on the table and shrugs at him for an answer.

“What’s that mean, Jenny?”

“Jennifer. Or Ms. Lawrence to you.” She replies smugly. “You think he’s innocent?”

“I wouldn’t know, Jenny.”

“Ms. Lawrence, please.”

“I’ve heard people relentlessly claim to be innocent until they don’t. Did we get them to be truthful or did we finally get to them permanently? I only know what my job is.”

“And just what’s that?”

“Breaking people like James McAvoy till they’re 9631 or whatever number you give them, Ms. Lawrence.”

“You’re trying to make yourself sound like a mechanic-”

“That’s exactly what I am.”

“Strange mechanic you are, fascinating…” Director Stewart has clearly been in the room long enough. “but strange, nevertheless.”

“In your exceedingly successful record we trust.” Jennifer smiles confidently.

Michael leans back in his chair. “Shouldn’t we be more alarmed about the escape?”

“We are.” Jennifer confesses. “You need to make 9631 before he passes on his trade secrets.”

“He’s on solitary for the time being. The only prisoner contacts he has are the volunteers. I’ve asked for them not to communicate with him in any form, for any reason whatsoever. There’s a guard by his door at all times. He’s also monitored 24/7 via a concealed camera.” Stewart elaborates.

Michael detects stiff pride. He counters: “What makes you think he doesn’t know he’s being watched? If he’s smart enough to pull this kind of a stunt singlehandedly, you seriously think he won’t be able to get a message out?”

“We’re doing everything we can. What do you suggest we do differently?”

“Give him to me.” Michael locks his gaze onto Stewart.

“Excuse me?” Jennifer blurts out in surprise “What?”

“Give him-” Stewart repeats.

“To. Me.” Michael reasserts and is on his feet in a flash: “That guy in interrogation room 3? What’s the difference between him and James?”

Jennifer and Stewart exchange sharp glances.

“They’re entirely different, aren’t they? I mean this guy stayed afloat for so long. He is sharp, focused, paranoid.” Stewart lists, suspiciously. “9631, well…he’s…”

“He’s one of the pawns. The runners.” Jennifer supplies. “They plan it out, he does the leg work.”

Michael stands his ground, positions himself in between the two. “So by that logic, we have to assume that the planner in room 3 has more to do with the escape than James?”

“But 9631 is the one who escaped!”

“What if someone were trying it on for size? A dress rehearsal…James is a sitting duck. He’s only been here two weeks, knows squat about the other prisoners, is scared and therefore highly impressionable. Think about it.”

“So you’re buying his story? That he knows nothing?”

“Well, he knows now.” Michael smiles. “He’s figured out exactly what happened. Or the people who made it happen.”

Out of the corner of his eyes, Jennifer’s deep scowl reaches him.

“What are you waiting for, then? Make him talk!” Stewart shakes his head in disbelief.

“You don’t understand him, Director. James is scared of pain, yes. He is terrified in fact. But he will not talk. There’s something about him…”

“Wait, wait…you said he knows now?” Jennifer pipes in. “He didn’t know before? He escaped without knowing?”

“Let me just put it to you this way, Jen.” Jennifer purses her lips at Michael who clearly enjoys the gesture. “You’ve been locked up for years in here, you know what this place is. I mean you’ll have been given the whole works, been through it all. Suppose your cell doors open in the middle of the night. What do you think you’ll do?”

“I’d think it was some kind of test, I guess.”

“You’d hope to god no one blames you and curl up behind the bed!” Stewart adds.

Michael is triumphant. “That’s what we do to them, put fear into their heads.”

“9631 isn’t afraid enough? Is that what you’re getting at?” Jennifer looks dubious.

“That can be rectified, Michael.”

“Director…It’s a little more complex than that. I’m convinced someone’s gotten to him before us. Someone who’s promised a lot worse than anything we can inflict. He will not talk until we get this person or persons.”

“So back to our original point…Give him to you?” Jennifer takes an almost indignant tone.

“He can’t be here where he’s susceptible.”

“You’re suggesting we take him out? And put him where?” Stewart’s query is met with a snort from Jennifer: “You’re seriously considering this?”

“Put him with me in the bunker by the beach. I checked it out yesterday.” Michael’s eyes twinkle with something like expectation. “I can make him out there alone, but not in here. Not like this.”

“We’re going out on quite a limb here, Lt. Fassbender. The paperwork alone would take weeks.” Jennifer takes turns staring at the men and their expressions of perfect accord.

“Ms. Lawrence…” Michael gives her the best bedside manner baritone he can manage. “Do I look like someone who won't go looking for a limb to go out on?”

Jennifer smiles despite herself: “Because you were polite, I suppose we can go for a trial of sorts.”

Stewart agrees: “Yes, say three days. But you’ll have to attend to your duties here as well. We can’t afford for the prisoners to be suspicious. They can’t know what 9631 did. As it is, there’s only five of our number who knows about the escape, including the three of us in this room. The high command has been advised, of course, with great discretion.”

“Fine. Three days starting as soon as I wrap up our circus guy.” Michael bows, and swaggers to the door.

“Oh lord…” Stewart looks dizzied by the sudden realization of what he has agreed to.

“His number is 3098, by the way.” Jennifer calls after Michael.

“But it’s Radford Hayes who’s going to roll over, Jenny.” 


	5. Chapter 5

**8.10 am**

_I’m James?_

For all the assurance the thought gives him, James could really not be James.

His head throbs with the combined might of his enforced insomnia and the several blows he took.

He wants nothing more than to bury his face in his hands and cry. Consideration for further aggravations and explosions of the many minor hurts which will then snowball into a major pain or multiple pains, stops him.

Laurio drops in now and then; scaring him awake, roughly palming him and clawing at his body. It’s all over in a matter of minutes. That’s all it takes. He shivers and trembles for hours.

To make matters worse, the guard at his door bangs his baton on the cell door every twenty minutes.

“What’s your number?”

“9631.”

“What are you?”

The first time he hesitates at the question, he has his face pressed to the hard concrete wall. He’s never hesitated since.

“I’m terrorist scum.”

The guard moves back to his position, immediately out of sight, satisfied. Each time, it takes James longer and longer to find the right responses. Something in him was shutting down, making it harder for him to comprehend simple facts. Like _I am shirtless_ ; or _I am sitting on a bed_.

_Don’t be falling asleep now._

James hears the words like an echo. The man’s threats worry him senseless although he is too exhausted to think about that. Yet, in a way, James has explained himself to the man. His story; the man heard it out without laying a hand on him in retaliation. James feels a little hopeful, but of course that’s probably the sleep deprivation.

The metal door of his cell clangs open and like an omen, it is Michael.

“I just thought about y-you.” James slurs his way through, before he can stop himself.

Michael looks at him strangely: “Did you, really?” He turns to the guard, “Give me your flashlight.”

As Michael steps closer, armed with the light, James tries to make himself into a ball.

Michael pulls his good eye open and shines the flashlight into it. “Follow the light with your eye.”

He watches the tired blue eye (Ocean blue and deep, Michael thinks) shudder without focus.

“C’mon James.” James makes a wonky attempt as though to please Michael, who proceeds to move his fingers before James’s eyes.

“Very little response.” He murmurs, handing the flashlight back.

“What’s your name?”

“9-6-” He begins weakly, pondering his answer.

“No. That’s not your name.” Michael corrects kindly. “Tell me your name.”

Minutes tick by before the answer is reached at: “James.”

“Oh good, you’re not as far gone as I assumed.” Michael smiles wryly at the frail man in front of him. “Or maybe you are.” He corrects himself when James smiles brightly back at him. Michael snaps his fingers sharply by James’s ears and the smile wavers.

“Focus, James…” Michael finds a sort of impatience starting to creep in. “Remember the guy I told you about? The one who blew up the circus?”

James nods unsurely.

“He confessed. Gave us a lot of names. What if I told you your name was in on there?”

James stills when he understands the implications. “No.” He protests.

“No as in ‘No chance in hell’ or ‘Oh no’.”

James barely understands the sentence and makes no response.

“More proof against you.” Michael clarifies, careful not to break eye contact.

James flutters long lashes at Michael, unwilling to grasp the idea. He simply turns away and buries his face against the wall, pulling as much as he can of his moth-eaten bedcovers around him.

“Is that it, then? You’re admitting guilt?” Michael asks softly. James breathes a ragged breath. And then silence.

Tired of waiting, Michael leans over James to catch a glimpse of his face through the opening of the bedcover. James is asleep; his breath is evened out, hands wrapped around himself and mouth slightly open.

“Bloody adorable…” Michael sighs dismally.

He has half the mind and the right amount of annoyance to rip the bed cover right off James. He decides instead to channel his energies elsewhere.

The cell itself has until now escaped his attention. Six by Four, he reckons. No regular fixtures other than the bed and a bed pan hidden away underneath. There aren’t any markings on the walls or the floors. Completely concrete. The electronic door has a single flap in the middle. Michael also notices a manual six lever lock with a key presumably.

Intrigued by the silence, the guard pokes his head in.

“Sir, is everything alright?” His eyes fall harshly on James’s peaceful form. “Is he sleeping? He’s not-”

“He’s thinking deeply.” Michael is square with the guard, almost challenging him to check up on James.

“Of course, Lt.Fassbender.” The man says meekly, drawing his head back out.

Michael goes to James and tenderly pulls the covers down so that just his face is exposed. “The things I do for you, James McAvoy.”

Michael runs the pad of his thumbs on either side of his face.

James starts, jumps to wakefulness. “I’m terrorist scum.” He says glibly, eyes racing all over Michael.

“Cross your heart and hope to die, James?”


	6. Chapter 6

**11.00 am**

On the white folds of snow, the guards’ grey uniforms and Michael’s black coat are somber.

Only James’s deep orange prison jumpsuit and the flimsy blue jacket seem oddly cheerful.

Even in the blizzard, he can’t be lost. Lest he try anything, there are four guards on him; two with a grip on either arm, two walking out armed and staking the grounds in advance.

But it is Michael following him at a dignified distance, Michael and his searing gaze that follows every step he drags out, the straining of his handcuffs affixed loosely to the manacles around his feet. Michael’s focus never wavers.

Sometimes James moves in and out of trances; sleeping, shutting down as he made his way ahead. Michael shouts orders to the guards, _Keep lively, men,_ when James threatens to fade into sleep. _Keep up, James_ he hears.

Their progress is excruciatingly slow; he listens to the guard on his left grumble about making the same trip in twenty minutes on a better day. In an armored truck, it would take even less time, he gripes, if it weren’t for effing Michael Fassbender’s insistence that they do this on foot. The one on his right grunts a curse that is lost in the cold. The prison walls are now a black haze behind them.

As they get closer to the sea, James can smell salt and sand, lost warmth. The winds pick up and lash out.

He remembers the stories he heard from Moira as she cleaned him up. Men led out only to return in a bodybag, with a single bullet to the head. Or the ones who never return at all.

_Which one am I?_

He turns back to look at Michael, who nods a subtle acknowledgement. Without knowing why, James bursts into silent tears.

The guards at his side simply tighten their hold on what they perceive as guilty reluctance. Suddenly, it is harder for James to will himself to walk.

Michael presses a firm hand to the small of his back. _When did he cover the space between them?_ The guards remove their hands and march forward as though on cue.

James can’t breathe. He waits for the heat of a revolver on the back of his head. He hopes not to have to return to the prison; he’d rather be buried on the beach.

“Lt. Fassbender…” One of the advance party calls out having conquered a small mound of snow. “I have the keys. Permission to open it up?”

“Yes…check the locks, thermostats, plumbing and electrical circuits. I don’t want unpleasant surprises.”

James hiccoughs as he forgets to cry, genuinely curious. The guard bolts down the other side of the mound and out of sight. His partner perches on the top covering his descent.

The other two guards glance at Michael for orders. Michael crooks his finger at one of them, who comes running. James flinches when he recognizes the figure.

“You were one of the men who caught James, right?” Michael scans the area with his eyes. “Where’s the recovery site? Show me.”

The guard points to a leafless thicket, skeletons of trees capped by fresh snow. “Five clicks in, there’s a clearing. He was on the floor there, under an elm.”

James feels a sharp push along the direction; staying away is not an option Michael offers.

The guard begins to follow and Michael waves him away. “I think James and I’ll be fine.”

“Is it safe?” He lingers uncertainly. “What if you need backup?”

Michael shrugs nonchalantly and motions for James to walk ahead.

Dry twigs break about them as they make their way in. They continue silently till the clearing is upon them. Michael tugs James into the centre of it.

_And never returned at all_.

James’s eyes widen as Michael stands observing. “You were crying…”

“Why are we here?” James’s voice is low and tear-stained.

Michael makes no move to answer at all.

“This is where you were caught, yes?” he asks instead. James looks at the floor, defeated.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” Michael interprets contently.

“Tell me what happened here James.”

“He told you-”

“I asked you to tell me what happened here. Do not make me repeat myself.”

Suddenly the pang of fear is back. James has to remind himself that this man could, will hurt him.

“After I got out, I walked till I saw the sea, and…”

James casts his gloomy eyes around. “This seemed like a safe place.”

“So you were here in the open, at -2 degree Celsius…how did you keep warm?”

“I put my arms in my jumper and rubbed myself.”

“How long were you here?”

“I d-don’t know.”

“What happened then?”

“They came.” James says quietly. “I could hear them for a long time before they found me.”

“Why didn’t you run?” Michael is animated as he draws closer to James; so close that his breath reaches James.

“I was cold and…tired.” James shakes his head.

“So you went to all this trouble and…” Michael bends slightly to look the smaller man in the eye. “…gave up?”

James bites his lips anxiously, he stops when he sees Michael’s eyes fasten on his lips as well.

“This is the official version…now I want your version.”

“I…” James opens his mouth but there were no words there.

Michael, in a swift motion, removes a taser from his pocket. In the same gesture he presses it to James’s chest.

His cry is clear and unbroken. He falls quickly and pants on the ground.

The legendary cruelty, Michael has warned him about. _Just you and me._

“I’ve asked you not to make me repeat myself. Twice.”

He says as he uses the taser for a second time; James is a little more prepared this time. He downs the sound of his own pain in the snow.

He sobs where he lies, trying to form whole sentences around the shock of it all.

“James, did you see something here?” Michael’s voice is like a whiplash.

He shakes his head wildly. _No. No._

Michael swiftly grabs him by the collar of his jacket. He is swung back to his feet, only to promptly fall on his back again.

“You said safe place. What made this place safe?”

Michael steps expertly on James’s chain as he tries to scamper up to his feet. He points the taser directly at his face.

“Fiiireee…” James wails loudly. Michael switches the taser off.

“What fire?”

“There was a fire…he-he-here…”

“Here?…what kind of fire?”

“I don’t-”

Michael flicks the taser on.

“Please…” James says quickly, shielding his face with his hands. “I…didn’t want to get their attention. I stopped here. They were deep…deeper in. I swear, I don’t know.”

“Did you see people? Anyone you can identify? Do you know how many?”

“No…” He sobs loudly when Michael’s face turns dark.

“What did you see?” He asks pronouncing each word with emphasis.

“I-I heard people…I…it was dark. I couldn’t see.”

Michael tucks the taser away safely. He holds a hand out to James, who backs away fearfully.

“Take my hand.” Michael says softly. James grabs it with both his hands, careful not to offend Michael.

He is pulled charily to his feet and can barely stop trembling. Michael loops a hand around James’s waist to steady him.

James can’t make anything from Michael’s unflinching expression. He could very well be looking at snow, or at trees. Not at a man who he has just tortured.

“What were they doing, James?”

James’s shakes his head miserably. “I don’t know.”

“Humor me with a guess, please.” A strain of anger suddenly permeates the voice.

“Th-they…like they were waiting…or h-hiding.” James concedes quickly.

Michael pulls him closer. “What you saw was a campfire. It would have been impossible for you not to have seen it. All you had to do was tell me the truth. Do you understand?” Michael sounds earnest.

James tries to ignore the insane thudding of his own heart. He hurt James for information he’d already had.

“If you know them, if you have any clue, this is your chance. Tell me.”

But James has shut down, Michael can see it. His face is glazed over and eyes are downcast, this is his typical reaction to bone-drenching fear, Michael has already discovered.

Apparently he can also be quite fool hardy as he is now, pushing himself away from Michael with the remnant of his wits, his courage. Even terror will not seep through this veil.

“For your sake, James, I hope you’re blissfully ignorant.” Michael says allowing himself to be disentangled from limbs that seemed to have no will even seconds ago. James seems surprised that Michael does not punish this obvious bit of resistance.

“After you…” Michael mock bows; James heads back slowly, obviously in pain and with legs that cave in without warning.

_Electro convulsive shock does that to you_ , James reasons.

Now and then, Michael has to reach out and support James’s weight. His hands obstinately curling around James, angling him onwards, out of the forest to whatever awaits him.

Michael guides him to the top of the mound. Below the guards are obviously relieved.

James finds himself facing a bunker, sinister metal and concrete. He is lead down to it and handed by his chains to one of the guards.

“Get comfortable, James. I’ll be along soon.” Michael says amiably.

The guard jerks him away. James unintentionally catches Michael narrowing his eyes at the guard, a chilling expression on his face. The guard doesn’t see it. But James is sure there will be consequences.

Inside the bunker, everything is an imitation of intimate domesticity.

The dank room they enter seems to serve as a bedroom and a living space. The wall opposite the door is a fireplace, already crackling and steadily warming everything up.

There is a rather large bed in a corner and a pile of mattresses on it. The other end of the room is a cabinet full of books, medicines, cutlery, china and what looks like bottles of wine. He notices three other doors, all closed. Suitcases, bags perfectly lined up against the wall.

The guard pulls him into the room roughly: “Welcome home, sweetheart.”

He says nothing, there is no reason to provoke the man so visibly irritated. But that doesn’t mean said man would not vent his irritation.

“I get that you’re pretty and all, but moving you into a private bunker?” The man bites into James’s lips aggressively.

James steps on his feet and is shoved backwards in retaliation.

“You gotta be really good, right? Hell, you’d have to be an awesome fuck. Don’t worry darling, he’ll get tired of you. They all do. I guess I’ll take you then.”

James can smell his tobacco breath, and the stink of sweat; he almost hurls. He is ready for more abuse when the man takes his chains again. But he is instantly dragged to a loop by the fireplace, _so this is where the chain goes_.

The man backs away, grinning obscenely at James who stares back warily. He reminds himself of a cat arching for defense.

The man turns and hurries out of the door, almost crashing into Michael. Apologizing profusely and with a final meaningful look at James, the man is gone.

James would heave a sigh of relief, if it weren’t for Michael’s presence.He lowers himself onto the heavily carpeted, albeit dusty floor.

Michael closes the door; he proceeds to remove his winter protection.

“Are you cold?” He asks, without turning to glance back at James.

James hugs himself. “Yes.”

“It will get warmer. I'm sure the fire's helping.  They’ve turned the central heating on as well. It’s old, as you can imagine. But it works, it’ll be warm soon.”

Michael grabs a frumpy looking blanket and goes to James.

“Here, just in case.” He says, covering an almost catatonic James. “You can sleep if you like, I don’t mind. Not my rule anyway.”

Only when Michael moves away does James breathe.

Without another word or a look, Michael disappears into one of the rooms and shuts himself in.

Despite his dire watchfulness, James sinks. It's horrible, losing himself to sleep when he's so scared. But it cannot be helped.

_Just you and I._ Someone whispers in his head.


	7. Chapter 7

**4.45 pm**

Michael imagines that this must be perfect in another world. James, fast asleep and oblivious to the stormy seas and the unbearably grey skies outside.

He looks particularly tragic with all his injuries.

Michael has to use nearly all of his will power not to touch James.

_Resist._ Michael reminds himself.

**7.00 pm**

Anger always gives way to fear and pain. James is sure of the pattern.

“Forty seconds, James.” Michael hovers, hawk-like, glancing down on James and at his own watch by turns.

This is not the kind of expectation James would profit to disappoint.

_Fuck. Fuck. Fuck._

Laurio has left his fingers swollen and clumsy; the pick slips in and out of his grip. The lock simply gleams on the table.

“Fifty five…” There is direness in Michael’s tone that James has come to be careful of. It is a sign of things to come.

“I can’t-” James concedes abruptly. “My fingers…” He lifts them up pitifully to Michael.

“Your fingers, huh?” Michael slumps into his chair on the other side of the table. He takes James’s fingers in the palm of his hand, examining them minutely.

“You know, you did pretty okay the first time. Even for the state your fingers are in. One minute, thirty two seconds. On a six lever lock, James.”

James doesn’t know what to say. He wishes Michael would allow him the small mercy of returning his fingers intact.

“But still, that’s far too slow…you would’ve needed to do this in less than thirty seconds flat.”

James understands the tangent. He couldn’t have picked the lock to his cell fast enough to evade the cameras and the guards. _Not humanly possible._

“Still, your fingers were absolutely healthy, weren’t they? You could’ve been faster, a lot faster.” Michael stops to measure James. _Wise James, eyes to the floor._

“And of course, you could be messing with me now. You could just be slow on purpose.” Michael likes the way James instinctively looks up and searches his eyes.

“I’m not…” James says slowly when Michael makes no move and refuses to rearrange his dead pan expression. “I did not touch that lock.”

“Then who did? Who made it open?”

James shakes his head.

“What are you not telling me?” Michael literally hands James his fingers back.

He almost laughs when James hurriedly tucks his arms away. Big blue eyes searing back at Michael.

“There is no scenario where this is a win for you, you know.” Michael sounds matter-of-fact. “You talk to me, everything you’re scared of now will happen. You don’t talk, I’ll do what I’ve got to do. Not an enviable position.”

James’s lips tremble as he looks away and tries to stall the tears. “It’s all priority right?”

“Please…”

For all his calmness, Michael could be asking James out for coffee.

“James, who do you think will hurt you more? Our mystery man or me?”

When James finally speaks, his voice is a bare whisper. “You don’t know…”

“Don’t know what?”

“I won’t…”

“Won’t…not can’t?” Michael brushes a lock of dark brown hair off James’s face, ignoring the resultant flinch. “You’ll find there’s nothing you won’t do, given the right amount of pain.”

As though in answer, Michael’s walkie-talkie erupts into static. Both men come to with a start.

“They sure know how to interrupt, don’t they?” Michael murmurs mostly to himself.

Suddenly he is aware of a distant mechanical roar. A vehicle coming to them.

“Lt. Fassbender in. Over.” He speaks into the walkie-talkie.

The set crackles and comes to life. “Jennifer Lawrence, here. Copy. Over. ”

“Advise me, Jenny. Over.” James discovers a strange boyishness about Michael. This is a startlingly different man.

“Be advised. It’s Ms. Lawrence to you. And Commander Bacon is on his way to meet you. Over.”

Michael frowns deeply. “Advise. What’s the purpose of his visit? Over.”

“You need to explain your current mission and state of affairs. Over.”

“I am advised. Over.”

“Copy. Over.” Michael pockets the transmitter.

“Looks like a lot of interesting people are interested in you, Jamie.” He smiles at James and grabs his coat. “Hang tight, you hear?” He says closing the door behind him.

James can hear the steadily approaching thrum of a powerful engine. Commander Bacon, Jennifer Lawrence said.

Michael’s consternated frown crosses his mind. Someone powerful, then. Interested in him. _This is not good, never good._

Strong lights flood the windows. In it he can see the heavy snow.

James has adjusted to the constant roar of the sea. The lights dim and die away. The engine is silent now.

James watches the door for movement. It shudders for a moment and then yawns to reveal a chill-glazed Michael. He is followed by a man who reminds James of a wolf. They’re in the middle of a conversation.

“-specifically asked Ms. Lawrence not to disturb you…”

“How am I to be of help, sir?” Michael asks sharply.

“We’ll get to that in a moment. 1133-” James looks up much too fast. Michael gives him an assessing look, running his eyes over him again and again.

Moira trudges in, cautious. Her eyes fall once on James but other than that register no reaction.

“1133 has been the most charming guide. Help me with my coat and then set my suitcase on that table.”

Moira is diligent with the orders; a coat is slid off unyielding shoulders and a black suitcase is reverently placed before James.

Moira takes up her place in a non-intrusive corner. Far away from James. Commander Bacon seems extremely pleased.

“What did I tell you, charming!” Bacon suddenly beams at James as though he’d been the one who suggested otherwise.

Behind Bacon, Michael looks slightly sick.  James can’t help the feeling that some meaning has eluded him as Michael looks away.

“So…” Bacon pivots to face Michael. “What have you been up to?”

“Questioning Mr. McAvoy here.” Michael says subdued.

Bacon does his sleight of body and is now back at James again. “And how is that going for you, Mr. McAvoy?”

James feels his skin crawl a little. He tries to hold Bacon’s gaze down. “Insolent little bitch, isn’t he?” Bacon snarls without warning.

Before Michael can move, Bacon has taken James by the chin. James wraps his hands around the man’s wrist, trying to tear the hand away.

“Don’t touch the commander.” Michael snaps tersely and James drops his hands benignly.

Bacon laughs snidely, squeezing harder. “I’d like to know why he’s not in chains, Lieutenant.”

“He’s not combative, sir.” Michael’s voice sounds strained.

Out of the corner of his tearing eyes, James notices an ashen Moira. He wishes she would look away.

“Not combative?” Bacon lets go with a shove. He squares with Michael. “Surely, you witnessed this just now?”

“Yes, sir.” Michael nods.

“Cuff him.” Bacon barks triumphantly. Michael grabs a pair of handcuffs off a shelf. He does not look at James as he restrains him.

“What exactly do you plan to do with him? I mean this is highly irregular.”

“I need him away from the prison for him to talk, sir-”

“The hell you do. Don’t tell me you need to come all the way out here so that he can pop a few locks.”

“I-” Michael begins and stops.

For a moment, James is sure a streak of intelligence flashed across Michael’s face. But now it is serene, obedient; clearly pleasing Bacon.

“All I ask, Commander, is a chance. Director Stewart gave me three days. That’s all. Think of this as an experiment. If it works, we’re all the better off for it.”

Michael can see 1133 trying to glance furtively at James. Bacon follows Michael’s gaze and sighs theatrically. He spins on his heels.

1133’s cry is muffled. Bacon smacks her head hard into the wall.

James’s strangled scream reaches Michael who with a stealthy show of hand, signals him to be quiet.

Moira falls to the floor in a heap, moaning.

“Honestly! Give them a second, they go running to comfort the long suffering.”

Bacon uncreases his shirt and returns his attention to Michael. “So you’d like to take the three days?”

“Yes, sir.”

“What am I to do with him after the three days, supposing you’re unsuccessful?”

Michael shakes his head softly. Bacon swaggers his way back to a visibly frightened James.

“If you don’t have answers in three days, Lt. Fassbender, I’m going to put a bullet right here.”

He places his fingers in the back of James’s head and makes a soft click with his tongue.James pales significantly as Michael shrugs.

Bacon ruffles James’s hair almost fondly.

Michael acknowledges the man with a curt nod as he walks languidly to 1133.

James bites down a sob as Bacon grabs Moira roughly and stands her. There is an ugly bruise on her forehead.

“A rose by any other name, eh?” Bacon hisses. “1133 here used to run reconnaissance for our dear friend, McKellan. Used to be quiet the master stake-out artist. Rosie Byrne, recon expert.”

This time Michael does not catch James’s startled face.

“I’m the one who tracked her down three years ago. Know how I got her to talk?”

Michael looks like he’d give an arm not to hear.

“Raped her till she would do anything to make it stop.”

This elicits a long groan from 1133.

“Shut the fuck up.” Bacon shakes her violently.

Michael shifts on his feet uneasily. James turns his face away.

“Just in case, you get desperate. I mean, you might as well have some fun while you’re at it, am I right?”

Bacon tips his head suggestively at Michael. “Best of luck, Lieutenant.”

He steers 1133 out of the door, where a group of shadows, his convoy waits.

Michael sighs and watches the lights go back on outside. The engine whines back to life, drowning out the sea and the snow storm for the moment.

James imagines the gun rising to his head.

Michael walks back to his seat before James. He meditates with closed eyes.

“He’s going to kill me.” James states. Michael realizes he has never heard this voice from James; his voice of acceptance.

“James?” Michael opens his eyes. _Clear, calm._ “Come here.”

He stands up and grabs James.

“What?” James pulls away.

_Raped her till she’d do anything to stop it._ “No.”

“James, stop it.” Michael manages a strong grip on James. He feels the younger man’s weakened body lift and pull in panic.

It’s a struggle, opening the door. But he does it and literally drags James outside.

The shock of the cold snow and the scream of the sea quiets James, just long enough for Michael to press the palm of his hand to James’s mouth.

“Calm down. Listen to me very carefully. We don’t have a lot of time-”

“Sir, is everything alright?” A guard calls from the top of mound. The other three converge from various directions.

Michael licks his lips, but does not release James.

“All fine, gentlemen. Just having a conversation. Back to your posts.”

James’s muffled cries from behind Michael’s palm arouse no interest. He has to watch horrified as the men trudge back to their positions.

The moment they are out of sight, Michael whispers intensely in James’s ears. “James, I’m not going to hurt you. Listen to me.”

James lets up slightly. Michael removes his hand, but traps James between himself and the hard bunker.

“It’s not safe in there. Nobody knows that you picked locks. I didn’t tell anyone. We’re being watched!”

James feels a chill run down his spine.

“It could be bugged or maybe there’s a camera. It could even be the fucking guards.” Again the tongue nervously licking the lips.

“I don’t know what the hell is going on. But we can’t talk inside. Dragging you out was stupid in itself. But had to be done. I’ll keep up with the kind of questions I’ve asked all day. You do your thing. I need time to think.” He finishes his low rant.

James looks stunned, numb in the head.

“Ready?” Michael nods at the door. _Ready to go back in?_ James shakes his head.

“We both know you know things, James.” Michael takes a deep breath. “I also know you’re scared.”

Michael sees James’s eye soften. “I will figure out a safe way for you to tell me. Till then we’re keeping up this charade.”

James nods immediately in agreement. “I won’t fucking get what’s going on till you speak up.” Michael swears under his breath.

“Don’t you see?” James answers in a dry whisper. “It’s not what happened to me! It’s about what happened in the prison when everyone was looking for me…”

Michael’s breath hitches at the simplicity of the reasoning. He barely recovers in time to follow James into the bunker. 

_McAvoy, you clever son-of-a-bitch._


	8. Chapter 8

**Day 4**

**6.00 am**

“I need answers. What happened in the clearing?”

For the life of him, James cannot figure out how Michael is calm. They’d been up for most part of the night, Michael refusing to betray anything other than stray tension.

Even now, he continues at his impregnable best. Systematically breaking down details about the clearing as though his life hanged in the balance. Well, James’s did.

“James, tell me about the clearing. What went on in there?” He presses mechanically. “You’re pretty much all the surveillance we had out there that night.”

James on the other hand is a different story. He is painfully alert of every word that escapes his mouth. He watches for signs from Michael.

A twitch of the lips, a quirked eyebrow, a blink, anything.

But Michael is stoic; there is only ever a significant twinkle in his eyes. _Careful, James._ And then it is all gone.

“I asked you a question.” Michael’s voice cuts through his reverie.

James blinks and stares.

“I’m this far away from fed up, James.”

“I…I…” James stutters and stops.

“I believe the commander’s made himself infinitely clear. Isn’t that incentive enough?” Michael directs a particularly piercing stare at James.

_Pull yourself together, McAvoy._

“I…there’s…”

“Yes?” Michael looks pained now, almost as though James were at the cusp of something obvious but has plainly looked past it.

“Wh-what was your question?”

“I-” Michael begins and then drops his head, an imperceptible roll of the eyes.

After a brief, weary sigh, a strong hand snakes out and grabs James by the collar.

“You fucking stop playing games. You hear?” An intimidating shake and James is released.

Michael is on his feet. “What the hell happened in that clearing?” He bellows at James.

Eyes desperately clinging to James. _I’m missing something._

“James, don’t make me hurt you.” Michael’s voice rumbles. “Think back about that night. Think about the clearing. Just think back.” He huffs.

Think back. Michael grabbing him, shaking him out. He’s waiting for signs from Michael. Questions. Pretty much all the surveillance we had. All the surveillance we had. No other surveillance out there? NO BLOODY SURVEILLANCE.

“Fuck!”

“What?” Michael sounds genuinely surprised.

“I-I-I may have seen something out there! I remember! I’m not sure what! I can show you!” James says in a single breath. “Take me there and I can show you.”

A momentary smile, a relieved uncreasing of the forehead.

Then the business face is back on Michael. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

**6.20 am**

“Honestly, James. It wasn’t rocket science!” Michael declares in an unbelieving voice.

Then low, so he is the only one who can hear. “It’s a wonder whoever’s listening didn’t pick up on my plan first!”

“I don’t do all that well under pressure.” James shakes his head apologetically.

The storm has weakened considerably. This means that James can truly appreciate the clearing for the first time. Even through the thick blanket of snow, the trees look particularly dark. The elm. He remembers trying to curl up at its foot.

Michael scouts warily, making sure that the guards did not follow them. The way he ordered them to stay put, James is certain they will have obeyed.

“Tell me.” Michael says with a sigh. “I mean the stuff you haven’t revealed, of course.”

James is aware of a sharp sinking in the pit of his stomach.

“Everything I told you is true. I was cold and half-asleep when the cell just opened. I peeked out but there was no one.”

“Then you walked out. Still no one. About this point of time, all the cameras blitz out. We have no visual on what you did next.” Michael shrugs, sitting himself down on a stump. James remains where he is.

“I thought I might’ve been dreaming. There wasn’t a single guard in sight. That was weird cos’…you know, it’s a prison.” James says exasperatedly. “Anyway I knew there’s this guard station before the first main door. So I went down the corridor behind the station.”

“How did you get back on the correct corridor again?”

“I-” James pauses and looks sheepish. “I climbed into the air vent above the corridor.”

“You did what?” Michael looks impressed.

“I was desperate.” James says quietly. Michael hums his understanding.

“On the other side, I got out after the second door. But here’s the thing, it was already open. I could’ve walked out if it weren’t for the guards in the station.”

“How much are you willing to bet there were no guards in that station?” Michael smiles serenely.

“And I got to the steel door. It was-”

“Open.” Michael completes and motions for James to continue.

“I got out. Stayed low and close to the shade and dark as much as possible. Then I saw the gates, but the search lights weren’t trained on them.”

“Right and no guards.”

“Yeah, that was my chance. I ran like hell. Pushed the gates open.”

“That’s when the alarms went off?” Michael presses. “They’d found your cell empty by then.”

“Yes.” James nods miserably in agreement. “I ran as fast as I could. I kept hearing the ocean. At first I thought I was imagining it. But, it kept…getting closer. So I followed it.”

“Till you found this little oasis here.”

“I saw a fire, a-a camp fire.” James adds fearfully in deference.

Michael looks slightly amused but does not comment.

“I saw people around it, over there.” James points out. “I could make out sounds. Pans, utensils, being packed away in a rush. I never got a word of what they were saying. But it was like they were waiting for something.”

“For someone maybe?” Michael lifts an eyebrow. “Do you think they might’ve been waiting for you?”

“For me? I dunno.”

“What if that’s where their grand plan failed?” Michael sits up stiffly. _A hound onto a new scent._ “I do believe you weren’t supposed to make it out alive. You’d have served them far better as the mysterious case of James McAvoy, miracle escapee.”

Fear stings James. He realizes just how close he’d come to being murdered. Not that it was a remote possibility currently.

“I thought they were guards. How was I to know? I hid behind that elm and waited for them to leave. I-I must have passed out in the cold. I was hungry and tired too.”

James watches Michael closely for anything resembling pity or worse for him, judgment or anger. Instead Michael coolly continues with his line of thought.

“Now, what do you know about what happened in the prison while you were busy escaping?”

James casts a pleading look; sheer fear and pain.

“Telling you this is enough to get me killed.”

“Not telling me is sure to get you killed.”

“You don’t understand. They know everybody, they have photos and addresses, everything.”

“Everybody?”

“My family, friends, anyone who I’ve ever loved. Everybody.”

Michael chaps his lips together; a philosophical consideration of the situation surely. “Who’re ‘they’? He asks finally in a voice that cannot be countered. _I will ask and you will answer me._

James looks pale as he opens his mouth to speak: “Ever since I got back, people have been…on me. Some of the prisoners, the volunteers. Either I shut up or they’ll…do things to me, to my family and my friends…I didn’t understand at first. But Moira…Rose? I dunno anymore, 1133?”

“Yeah, Shaw’s bi-” Michael breaks off seeing the look on James’s face. “Yes, I know 1133. Moira, did you say?”

“That’s how she introduced herself to me. She pretended to be like the rest of them at first. But when we were alone, she told me things. Things to keep me safe.”

“How were you going to be safe, James?” Michael prompts.

“By revealing absolutely nothing. Not even the bit I did say.”

“That everything opened on its own? You were literally supposed to shut up?”

James lifts his unruly hair off the back of his neck. Michael can now see three cigarette burns, a triangle out of three pink points. He has a morbid feeling he’ll find many more along James’s back.

“That’s what I got for telling you what I knew. If I so much as mentioned anything Moira told me…” James trails off, shuddering behind closed eyes.

“What did Moira tell you?”

James opens his eyes brightly.

“You think Moira will talk to me?” Michael quips.

James shakes his head. “It’ll get her in trouble more likely.” James sighs before starting: “For heaven’s sake, don’t tell that man she’s a part of this. You saw what he did to her. She…he…”

“Then you tell me what she said and we’ll keep Bacon out of it for now.”

“I don’t want to see her hurt anymore. Please. They have ways.”

“You’re loyal to a fault, James.” Michael flicks his eyes over James contemplatively. It’s no wonder James feels oddly as though he were on display. Prone and unguarded somehow. “If I get her to talk, you could be safe. You could be out of here.”

James does not answer. He looks pointedly at Michael’s feet.

“I might have to get her in the end in any case. I can’t just let all of this slide because you have a soft corner for 1133.”

James holds his breath.

“But in the immediate present, she seems to be the only ally we have.” James visibly calms as he learns that Moira is safe for a while more at least.

“To protect her, I need to know the things she knows, James.” Michael says gently. “James? You do want her to be safe, don’t you?”

“God, yes.” James says eagerly “She…”

“Go on.”

“She told me that I’m looking in the wrong places for answers. I didn’t understand at first. But-” Michael senses a slight note of triumph in James. “At first, I thought they were trying some kind of new escape plan and something glitched and I accidently got to escape! But then I realized they wanted to make it seem as though I’d indeed escaped!”

James is fleetingly disconcerted by the Michael’s cryptic expression.

“You weren’t the main event, were you?” he groans and James recognizes mounting dismay in his face.

“I was just a distraction-I…” James gasps for breath. “They’re going to get me, aren’t they?” He’s been tearing over without realizing it.

For the first time, Michael looks anxiously human. “James. You’re not dead yet. Which of the other prisoners are in on it?”

“I…I don’t know all of them. There was 4390, I don’t know his name. There were three others. All men. I-they…they’re…”

“Did they torture you? They’re the ones who burnt you?”

“Yes. I…If they ever find out…”

“You’re safe here for the time being.” Michael points out reassuringly.

“Listen, we won’t be able to come back here again. By this time tomorrow this place will have been bugged thoroughly. I will go and try to talk to Moira without bringing too much attention to her or me, for that matter. I need you to keep up your act. Pretend you’re stringing me along.”

James brings himself to mouth a soft affirmative.

“We’ve got to go back now. Our alibi is that you led me on a wild goose chase. We literally have nothing else to give anybody that won’t endanger our position.”

James agrees but is confused when Michael’s own face turns severe.

“James, you know what this means don’t you?”

_James McAvoy, ladies and gentlemen; missing the truly obvious things that could kill you since, well, forever._

Michael fishes his taser out, standing slowly and towering over James.

James backs away, pleading silently.

“It would be too suspicious. How would I react if you’d really brought me out here on a whim? To take you back unharmed would undo all of our planning.”

“Please…”

“Don’t make this anymore difficult than it has to be.” Michael states in a tone that brokers no disagreement. _This will happen._

James shakes wildly where he stands as Michael advances. He barely feels the gentle squeeze of his shoulders or the brushing away of his hair from his face.

A tingle spreads across his chest. Then a wave of pain. He knows that he is the one screaming. He sways away and falls, trembling involuntarily than with fear.

Again and again and again. There is no place in the snowed-in ground he can crawl to where Michael can’t reach him. Finally, nausea hits him and the buzz of the taser stops.

He does all he can to stop whimpering and writhing with pain. He’s sure Michael is listening to him.

“It’ll hurt more, I set the taser down from ‘stun’ to ‘cease’. Less power, more burn and sting.”

James wonders if that’s meant to comfort. At least he wasn’t going to burn him with a red-hot stub. He tries to say so but the attempt merely wrenches a sob out of him.

“Here…” Michael reaches over and lets James rest against his chest. “Breathe, breathe. It’s done, it’s over. Deep breaths now. C’mon.”

James feels his body being half-carried upright. Michael has a hand around him.

“You’re going to have to walk on your own.”

James finds concern creeping up in Michael’s voice.

“You can do it. Go on.”

James starts walking as best as he can. It isn’t like last time. When he falls Michael does not steady him; he stops and waits for James to stumble back to his feet.

The guards snigger at the sight of him, especially the irritable one. He walks on to the bunker without raising his head to look at any of them.

Behind him, Michael sounds dark and unyielding. “I set him right this time.” He tells the guards with something akin to bravado.

James cannot stop crying, he will not.

**10.37 am**

The room is crammed with the sounds of washing, the machines setting their own pace and rhythm and the prisoners working their own way.

Michael spots 1133 in a corner pushing clothes into a machine. He spots the official grey uniform, Bacon’s, along with other piles of clothes.

He grabs the closest bundle of clothes he can find. There are not many officers around, or guards; Moira’s part of the room is mercifully empty.

The other prisoners seem to have been warded away from her. _The joys of working for Bacon._ Michael is not so lucky. Every one of the scant prisoners looks him up and down, turning away only when he glares back.

“I’d love your help with this.” Michael sneaks up by her side, offering up the clothes.

“Oh!” Moira starts, throwing surreptitious glances around as soon as she recognizes him.

“Absolutely sir. Let me.” She takes it demurely from him.

“James-” Michael begins abruptly.

“Should not have send you to me.”Moira cuts in. “Pardon my manners. He should not have talked.” She hisses.

“He doesn’t have a choice. Bacon will kill him if I can’t prove that he didn’t have anything to do with this shit.”

Moira sighs. “There is absolutely nothing I can do that will change anything that happened.”

“You can tell me what really happened.” Michael tries to look Moira in the eye. He lets his voice slide quietly into silence. _This is an interrogation, take control._ “Or I can have Bacon do this. How do you think he’ll take the fact that you were hiding information from him?”

Beside him, Moira’s breath catches. But other than that, she continues to work the washing machine without any discernible reactions.

“Maybe, he’ll stop raping you and finally get around to killing you. If you’re that lucky.”

Her hands clench ungainly on the dirty white top of the washing machine machine.

“I’ll give you till three today. Think it over. I’ll find you. Think well, Moira. Or whatever your name is, 1133.”

**11.15 am**

Michael has no idea how he finds himself like this; guiltily staring into Jennifer’s face, midway into stowing away James’s files along with some other prisoners’ details.

“I want in.” Jennifer says after what seems like an eternity of silent glaring.

“What?” Michael is sure he looks stupid now. “Whatever you’re up to, I want in.”

“I have no clue-”

“Cut the crap, Lt. Fassbender. We both know something fishy is going on here. You’re more in the vibe than me. So you need to bring me to speed, here.”

Michael needs a second to take in Jennifer’s cut throat expression and determined stance. He is definitely not winning this staring match.

“How do I know I can trust you?” Michael asks giving in. “You could be reporting back to anybody.”

Despite himself, Michael knows this isn’t true. _Intuition._

“I expected you’d ask me to show some token of my affiliations.” She waves a tablet before his face. “Lo and behold!”

On it, he recognizes himself from hours ago, grabbing a bundle of clothes and rushing to Moira.

“Doesn’t look strictly official or all that good natured, for that matter.” Jennifer smiles smugly.

“Who else has seen this video?”

“It’s your lucky day. It just so happened to be my turn to monitor the security feed, no one else saw it. I removed it entirely from the system.”

“You monitor the security feeds?” Michael asks suspiciously.

“No need to sound scandalized. I’m a trained security operative. Just because some sexist crap-head decided my official post should be secretary and clerk doesn’t mean that’s all I am.”

“Why come to me, though? This could’ve been your big ticket. Turning this in to Bacon would surely have gotten you a promotion at least.”

“Bacon is the sexist crap-head who made me secretary.” Jennifer grins handsomely.“So like I said; I. Want. In.”

Michael smiles back. Intuition. _Note to self: Jen Lawrence is badass._

**12.03 pm**

James paces his nervousness off; or tries hard to.

Now that the storm is down and the sea is calmer, he can see as far as the beach from one of the windows on the bunker. Once he sees a guard steal a smoke. Of course, he ducks down and makes sure that he isn’t seen. What good will it do to reveal himself? Even the ugly squawking of the gulls set him on edge.

Once or twice, he remembers that someone might be watching him or listening to him. He tries to muzzle even the sound of his own breathing. But that doesn’t help. _Eyes and ears on him._ He doesn’t even know where they are.

James lays himself on the floor, staring at the endless ceiling.

_How the fuck did I get here?_ One seedy interview? Really?

He recalls the grey New York morning when he went down to meet Angel Salvadore.

The way she didn’t bat an eyelid when she asked him what his area of expertise was. The way he gulped and said the first thing that came into his head.

“Bombs.”

“Bombs?”

“Yes.”

Of course, this was all played back to him when he was captured.

Monumental stupidity and just being in the wrong place and saying the wrong things at the most wrong times.

James realizes he is staring at the furthest corner of the ceiling so hard that his eyes water.

_Hello, something’s off._ His heart skips a beat and he sits up effortlessly.

Under the pretense of stretching, he doubles his body over and glances at the opposite corner. The wood paneling is smooth and uninterrupted unlike at the former part of the roof.

Camera!

James can hardly contain his enthusiasm. He battles the sudden urge to laugh.

Instead he rolls onto his back and closes his eyes. Pretend sleep is a good strategy.

In the distance, a mechanical buzz. An engine. Michael on his way back. James has never assumed that he’d ever be glad that Michael is coming. But he is.

Maybe he should discretely quirk his eyes over to the spot. Or maybe point sneakily.

Or he’ll just let Michael know there’s something he’d like to share and let him think of a safe way to communicate. He decides to pretend sleep some more.

Maybe he can whisper to Michael when he tries to wake James. There is a short silence from the engine. James almost opens his eyes at this point.

_No. Hold on. Hold on._ He relaxes his body and waits.

But James knows everything is wrong when the door opens with more force than is necessary. He is up in a shot.

It is Bacon who enters with a smart clap of boots. “Surprise!” He says nastily.

“Didn’t I tell you he’d be surprised, Private Laurio?” He asks to the salivating man, who smiles dully as he closes the bunker door.


	9. Chapter 9

**2.45 pm**

“This isn’t going anywhere.” Jennifer sighs, watching an old security footage of James for the umpteenth time.

Michael has his head buried in some documents and hardly responds. Jennifer fights the urge to go over and shake him by his collars.

Instead she turns to James on the screen; he looks morose in a grey t-shirt and pajamas. Quite obviously this is from the night he was caught.

Though evidently scared, he looks healthier and stronger.

“I never thought I’d be on his side.” Jennifer makes another attempt to reach Michael. This gets a reaction, however slight from Michael, who smiles consolingly at her.

“He is an eco-terrorist after all.” She adds for good measure.

Michael sighs. “Could be. Could be not. Doesn’t mean we should let him be killed for something he has no part of.”

Jennifer’s bright smile earns a befuddled look from Michael.

“Oh, so that’s got you talking.”

“You can be exceptionally immature when you put your mind to it.”

“It’s something I take great pride in, thank you very much.”

“Where are you at with my camera situation?” Michael decides to take the high road.

“I’m running a system scan as we speak. Nothing’s turned up. Are you sure you were being watched?”

“Positive. I just checked out the guards, none of them have any kind of known links to Bacon. No previous service under him or anything. It’s unlikely they could have been spying.”

Jennifer huffs a warning. “It’s all very unusual. I’ve never heard of anything like this.”

“Do you think director Stewart is in on this?” Michael sounds concerned in a way Jennifer can’t quite place.

“I really don’t know. For one thing he’s kept his distance ever since Bacon stepped in. He seems indifferent…” Jennifer lets her voice trail.

“At any rate” Michael glances worried at his watch “We’ll know one thing for sure.”

“Hmm…Think you spooked her enough?”

“Jen, I do this for a living. And never once have I known what enough is.”

“I’ve got my fingers crossed.” Jennifer’s face twists into something that could pass for a smile.

But Michael is staring past her at the door.

“You look like you’ve seen a-” Jennifer gulps nervously as she recognizes Patrick Stewart’s cryptic face.

“Neither of you are authorized to do this.” He remarks.

“Director…” Jennifer begins.

Stewart holds up a steady hand efficiently silencing her. “Ms. Lawrence, I know this seems adventurous and novel now. But what if this should go belly up? Michael here has official sanction. You will just have been cutting jurisdictional boundaries.”

“With all due respect, sir, this is about more than jurisdictional boundaries.” Jennifer draws herself to full height.

Stewart smiles sagely at her before turning to Michael. “And you, Michael?”

“I’m not going to stand by and watch a man die for something he did not do.”

Stewart can hear the strain of pride, a great righteous pride, in Michael’s voice and perhaps something else quite alien. Quite like desperation?

“I feared as much from the two of you.” Stewart admits without any outward show of his emotions. “I’ll have you know that you are treading on thin ice here…”

“But?” Michael prompts sensing the hesitation in his voice.

“The more I look at this the more I see that James McAvoy was likely framed.”

“Hallelujah!” Jennifer mutters under her breath just out of the men’s earshot. But they hear her and cast a quick look her way anyway.

“Isn’t there anything you can do for him? Any way you can influence Bacon?”

Michael catches a strange glint in Stewart’s eye. But it dissipates as Stewart shrugs no.

“The commander is a…”

“Sadistic pig and a rapist.” Moira supplies in a calm voice.

Michael springs to his feet, trying hard not to smile like an idiot.

“What’s going on?” Stewart stares in confusion between Jennifer, Michael and 1133. Moira calmly walks in, closing the door behind her.

“You didn’t tell me they were going to be here.” She says accusingly to Michael.

“In all due fairness, he didn’t know we were going to be here. So feel free to ignore us.” Jennifer prompts with the brightest smile Michael has seen on her in a while yet.

“Actually, I thought the plan was I was coming to get you.” Michael steps forward cautiously.

“Plans change.” Moira presses her back to the closed door. “Unless you’d rather I went away.”

“No one is saying that.” Jennifer says quickly looking sharply between Michael and 1133.

“What I am saying is that if you are double crossing me, you’ll be sorry.” Michael’s stare does not waver until Moira swallows noisily and nods.

Patrick draws up a chair and offers it to Moira. She sits down in a reconciliatory gesture.

“There’s clearly a lot more that I need to know to understand what’s going on.” He sighs. “I’ll just be over here and unobtrusive.”

Michael sits himself grumpily on the desk; he is sizing up Moira even though he now has a straight view of her.

“James is a …friend.” She says curtly.

“You did the right thing, 1133.” Jennifer tries to sound sober.

“Rose…” Michael corrects. Moira looks like she’d forgotten what her real name sounded like. “Why did you tell James your name is Moira?”

“Force of habit.” She shakes her head.“He was so scared and alone. I wanted to be there for him but I didn’t want to get in trouble. So I tried to minimize the chances of my name being repeated. Moira McTaggert was my handle.”

“Bacon’s threatened to kill James if I can’t prove his innocence. I need any information you have. Fast.” Michael says heavily.

“I know James had nothing to do with his escape.”

“Thanks. We kinda know as much.” Jennifer cuts in but drops short when Michael casts an icy glance her way.

“What do you know?” Moira looks sharp all of a sudden. Jennifer could kick herself for tipping their hand like an amateur.

“That’s none of your business, Rose. Tell me what you know.” Michael steps forward, standing inches away from 1133.

If that isn’t threatening, Jennifer doesn’t know what is.

“Listen, you have to understand. I’m not in their secret circle. I’m just a messenger. What I know, I know from old-fashioned deducing and eavesdropping.”

“Who is in on this? I need names, numbers.” Michael adds hastily.

“See, that’s the kind of information that’s going to expose me.” Moira crosses her hand as she speaks. _Stubborn._

“You’re really not in a position to bargain. Bacon-” Patrick begins before Michael can snarl out an order.

“-Can’t really protect me if I’m outed. I told you, I’m a messenger. That makes me one of the first people they will suspect if there’s a leak.”

“Not if we get all of them.” Jennifer says hurriedly. “Think about it. Just give us the names and we could pick them off, one by one. You’ll be safe.”

“But you don’t know all of them, do you?” Michael supplies as he reads Moira’s downcast face. “That’s why you stick to Bacon. His position offers a level of protection. Buys a bit of wariness on their part.”

“Bacon makes it just a little harder for them to get to me.” Moira says sadly. It isn’t too hard for Michael to imagine the price she pays to be secure.

“Who’re they working for?” Patrick asks with a quiet sigh.

“They belong to various groups. Some of them are from the South. I’ve met some of the others in the field. I’m pretty sure they were brought together by McKellen.”

Patrick and Jennifer exchange unsurprised glances with Michael.

“Why do you think so?” Patrick asks gently. “His name is thrown about a lot. But mostly they use a codename. Magneto.”

“So what are Magneto and his band of merry men up to?” Michael draws a seat up, leaning forward, almost touching Moira.

“I only know pieces of it. It’s a lot of code anyway.” Moira bites her lip. “And if I tell you what I do know…”

“You will be protected.” Patrick promises quickly.

“They’re looking for someone named Raven.” Moira spits out as though just the name would hurt her.

“That’s just a myth.” Jennifer sputters before either man can follow through.

“Who is Raven?” Michael sounds as though he were trying the weight of the name in his mouth.

“It’s something we uncovered around five years ago. Raven is a codename.” Patrick explains. “Raven is supposedly a sleeper agent who has infiltrated our agency. It’s just a story meant to put us on our toes. They’ve been known to tell tall tales before.”

“Well, they sound dead serious to me.” Michael frowns. “And at any rate, if this Raven is their spy, why are they looking for him? Shouldn’t they be in the know-how?”

“They have no idea who Raven is!” Moira puts her hand up assuaging Michael’s incredulous look and Patrick’s snort. “They’ve been instructed to find him but they have no clue. That’s why they had to meet up with the top brass-”

“I’m sorry, did you say meet up??” Patrick looks pale and edgy.

“Yes. That’s what the whole thing with James was about. They wanted you to be distracted so that-”

“Are you sure they said Raven?” Jennifer asks again.

“Yes, I’m sure they said Raven.” Moira sounds a little indignant. She turns to Michael, managing to look ruffled. “I’m risking my life for this.”

“You sound entirely skeptical.” Michael throws shrewdly at Jennifer, ignoring Moira entirely.

“There’s no proof Raven exists. No photo, no fingerprint, not even an eyewitness account.”

“I’m with Jennifer on this.” Patrick falls in line with Jennifer, who manages to look grateful. “Are we to assume it’s a vain little crusade?”

“I wouldn’t know about that.” Moira says stonily.

“Go on. Tell us what you know.” Michael nods at Moira. “Why did they pick James?”

“He was new, didn’t know any of the other prisoners, and had no idea who was working for who. Mostly he was desperate. The only thing he wanted was to escape.”

“Did he say as much?” Patrick asks.

“No. He didn’t need to. It was obvious. Really, it’s that way with all of the new ones. Everything gave him away.”

“What I want to know is how they made the cell door open?” Jennifer rejoins.

“And made all the fucking guards disappear!” Michael sounds exasperated.

Moira sighs. “Your technical team has been compromised. I don’t know the guy.”

“Yeah, we ran that angle. There’s no way anyone of our tech support could’ve carried this out on their own.” Jennifer cocks her head at Moira.

“They’re always there in groups of five. One of them reviews everyone’s workstations at all times. Furthermore, everything they do is uploaded on to a remote server in an unspecified location. Any suspicious activity would’ve been noted.” Michael explains to Moira, earning him pained looks from both Jennifer and Patrick. Though it looks as though they’d love to have a word about classified information, they resign to silence. _In your exceedingly successful record we trust._

“Everything I know, I know because I carry messages. So trust me when I tell you. One of your tech guys has been turned.”

“You can’t go around accusing-” Jennifer starts.

“Okay!” Michael states with finality that puts the argument to rest. “Let’s move forward with the premise that one of the computer guys is a spy. That explains the cell door, but not the guards.”

“Wait, maybe it does!” Patrick jumps in energetically. “Think about it. Aren’t all schedules drawn up by tech support? All our spy had to do was-”

“Adjust shifts. All he had to do was create a window between two change-ups.” Michael gasps “That’s why James never ran into any guards. They were between shifts. Or they thought they were.”

“But all of this for what?” Patrick shrugs at Moira who is clearly basking in the civil attention.

“Some kind of meeting took place. It was brief. I believe information was exchanged.”

“A meeting between whom?” Jennifer pushes.

“I wasn’t allowed anywhere near it. But I do know for a fact it was about this Raven. And I’m pretty sure McKellen’s men came.”

“People broke into my prison?” Patrick keens in a low voice.

Moira nods carefully. “I bet the tech guy arranged all of this.”

Michael sighs. “He is good. And you have no idea who he is?”

"Only that he’s been in regular contact with the guys who organized this. And that I know from their messages. They handle all of tech guy’s messages themselves.”

“Oh Fuck! Michael...” Jennifer groans.

“What?”

“The camera in the bunker!”

Realization dawns in Michael’s eyes. _Tech guy is running the show._ Michael can hardly discount the uneasy feeling in his mind, or the sudden queasiness, all connected to the fact that James is alone in the bunker where someone has malicious eyes on him.

“What camera?” Patrick sounds like a man on the verge of a nervous breakdown.

“Erm…The secret one in the bunker?” Michael manages to sound decently apologetic. “I had this…hunch that I was being watched. Turns out it may well be true.”

“So they went to all this trouble to _talk_ about Raven, did they?” Jennifer takes on a clearly vindictive tone of voice. “Then, they just went back to their cells like good little children?”

Moira looks intensely into Jennifer’s face; for a moment Michael thinks she’s about to take a swing. Instead she crosses her legs and leans back into the chair.

“No, then they went into a shutdown and threatened to cut my tongue out if I repeated a word.” She finishes plainly.

“Rose, do not think we’re unappreciative of the risks you’re taking.” Michael soothes with half a glare at Jennifer, who rolls her eyes, walking away to a far corner of the room with her trusty tablet.

“What are they planning, do you think?” Patrick twiddles tellingly with his tie.

“Something big.” Moira drops her voice to a chilly whisper.

“And it has something to do with Raven?” Michael screws his eyes shut, painfully thoughtful.

“It has everything to do with Raven.” Moira adds smartly, throwing a cold stare at Jennifer for good measure. But Jennifer seems busy with her tablet clicking away obsessively at what Michael hopes is more information.

“When is this going down?”

“From what I could gather…the window is between 32 – 72 hours.”

“This is unbelievable.” Patrick shakes his head sadly. “We’ve been compromised. This facility is no longer safe. We have to call it in.”

“We can’t do that. They’ll shut everything down. This might be our only chance to know the truth about Raven.” Michael catches a soft scoff from Jennifer’s direction.

When she speaks her voice is a little shrill. “Which part of horse shit do you not understand?”

“Jennifer. We can’t take the chance that-”

“The only chance we can’t take is with her.” Jennifer points squarely at Moira who stares defiantly back. “What if this is misinformation? What if she’s deliberately stalling while they go through with their plans? What about James, Michael? He doesn’t have a lot of time.”

“That is precisely my point. Don’t you see? This could be his only chance.”

“Right. We catch Raven and give her to Bacon?” Michael feels the ridicule Jennifer packs into her words. “Catch someone we’re not sure even exists? I applaud your brilliant plan.”

“I need to leave. It’s been way too long.” Moira fidgets.

“What’s the rush 1133? Am I onto something here?” Jennifer growls.

“Ms. Lawrence!” Patrick places a placating arm on Jennifer, nevertheless letting warning seep into his tone.

Michael watches as Jennifer deflates herself, physically reigning in control of her anger.

“You can go. Do you have a cover story?” he nods at Moira.

Moira shakes her head.

Michael glances at the files strewn haphazardly around.

“You were helping us clean up the office after a rather thorough search on our part for documents.”

“I’ll need intelligence I can feed him. I’d feel safer that way.”

“Tell him Jennifer and I are helping Michael.” Patrick smiles at her. “We can handle the attention.” He shrugs as Michael and Jennifer immediately shoot him wary looks.

“Thank you.” Moira quirks her head slightly. “I shouldn’t ask this of you, Director but if you knew him…”

A distressed beep from Jennifer’s tablet makes all of them jump. Moira laughs out loud when she realizes what the sound was.

Jennifer walks away to a corner, examining the screen.

Moira heaves a sigh of relief and walks out the door with a blank face.

“She has some balls.” Michael chirps. “Now all we have to do is smoke out the Raven.”

“And we have roughly 30 hours before Bacon’s deadline is over.” Patrick adds somberly consulting his watch. “5.30”

“Michael…” Jennifer calls in a shaky voice.

“What?”

Michael and Patrick walk over hurriedly.

“Bacon just got back in from the grounds.” She says as though that should explain the nature of the problem she is currently pointing out.

“So?” Patrick and Michael ask almost simultaneously.

“From the grounds, Michael! He has Laurio with him.”

Warning bells go off in his head. Before he can stop himself, he has broken into a run. Behind him, he hears Jennifer’s urgent explanations.

“I tagged Bacon with standard facial recognition software. It was supposed to broadcast back to me the moment he appeared on one of our cameras. I should’ve known when he didn’t come up for so long…”

“Michael…”

“Michael…”

Michael doesn’t stop. He is soon aware that he has left both Patrick and Jennifer far behind.

**6.05 pm**

James feels his body being gathered into someone else’s arms.

“Fuck. Fuck. James?” _Well, this doesn’t hurt **.**_

James stays as still as he possibly can.

“Dammit. Is he breathing?” A woman’s voice out of nowhere.

“Get a doctor.” _Michael._ James recognizes the voice. “James?”

A click of something metallic and the woman’s hushed voice breaks out.

“Director, it’s bad. Who do we have?” A pause. “Then sent the supplies and the kit. Painkillers and sedatives. Everything. Michael and I can do this.”

“There’s no doctor?” A growl. _Still Michael. The sea sounds near too._

James stirs. “James? Can you hear me?”

He wants to ask Michael to tone down the panic. After all, he’s calm and composed.

Even when his body doesn’t listen to him anymore. Even though there’s so much hurt that he’s numb.

“James, I’ve got you, alright?” Michael whispers.

James feels himself carried, he freezes up only to have Michael croon at him. “You’re fine.”

“Careful.” The woman again. “We don’t know what’s damaged.”

James is laid down softly on what he thinks is a bed. New pains rip through him. He moans and the woman shushes him.

“Hold on, 96-James. Just hold on. Michael, he’s not responding at all.” She adds hastily. _Jennifer Lawrence._

James opens his eyes a crack; the effort almost sends him back into a stupor.

“I think he’s awake.” Michael notices. He feels gentle hands stroking his face. “James?”

He tries to answer but surely an indistinct noise will suffice.

“You’re here, aren’t you? I know you can hear me.” _Yes, I can hear you. I can hear you, Michael._

“We need you to be calm. We’ll fix you up, okay?” Jennifer adds from somewhere in the background.

“Where’s the cavalry?” Michael hisses at Jennifer.

A click. “Director?” A second click later, Jennifer replies. “Less than ten minutes away.”

James feels Michael’s hand slip quietly around his wrist. _I can hear you._

“I hear an engine.” Jennifer says excitedly. A movement and fast footfalls away from James, but Michael has not moved.

The sound of the engine reminds James of his unexpected visitors in the afternoon. He shudders and the pain hits again.

“James? James? Don’t move. You’re hurt, please don’t move.”

Michael makes a sterner grip on his wrist, using his free hand to sweep away James’s unruly mop of hair.

A rather tedious attempt at peeping at Michael shows him concern, and then a wry smile as he realizes James is watching him.

“Hey…” Michael says quietly.

James sets his lips into a painful smile and balks at the agony.

“Don’t move. We have supplies on the way. I’ll put you to sleep. You won’t feel a thing.”

_Sounds like a promise._

In the distance, Jennifer has her face pressed against a window.

“M-mikel” James says finally.

“Don’t try to talk.”

James gestures with frail fingers, wincing with every movement. _Closer._

Michael bends down to him. He pretends to truss up the bed cover.

“K-Kemera.” James manages to pronounce barely.

“You found it?” Michael slips into a low voice.

James blinks rapidly. _Yes._

A rather loud honk reverberates. James groans.

“The fuck-?”

“I don’t think he’s coming in. I’ll go get it.” Jennifer rushes out.

Michael watches her go and lowers himself once again, fussing with James’s clothes, carelessly thrown back on him to preserve some semblance of humaneness.

“Can you tell me where it is?”

“Ceil-ceiling panel.” James casts his eyes wildly about.

“I searched the ceiling as best as I could. It’s not there.”

“Ceiling…” James repeats stubbornly. “The b-bulge in th-the panel.”

To Michael’s credit, he straightens up normally and continues to make James comfortable. Though his eyes fly wildly to different parts of the ceiling.

Unfortunately, James currently has no idea which part of the room he is in to direct Michael.

Jennifer can be heard making short runs to and fro between the jeep and the bunker.

Michael’s eyes get stuck on a rather small bulge in a corner panel; there are no others in the ceiling.

The engine starts up again and fades away. The sea is getting louder, Michael suddenly notices.

Jennifer pants as she runs to Michael and James with boxes and bags.

She flings a case open and grabs a syringe. Michael reaches out and takes it.

“Sedative.” he demands gruffly but dives into the boxes before Jennifer can react.

“Shit.” Jennifer sounds harassed. “It’s here!” She provides a vial.

James watches with ragged breath as Michael drives the needle into the medicine.

He feels Jennifer’s hands unbutton his shirt. He squirms as she runs her hand along his neck looking for a vein.

“It’s ok.” She coos, half heartedly.

“I’ll do it.” Michael’s hands are warmer on James’s skin. He finds a vein on his wrist.

“James, this is going to put you out for 3 hours at least. Relax.” Michael tips the needle expertly into his pale skin.

James feels the pull and tug of the sedative flowing into him. He responds with a short sob.

“Count backwards to 10.” Jennifer orders.

James just finds it oppressive. He does not count. Instead he lies there holding Michael’s gaze. _Please save me._

Michael does not blink or look away until James is completely under.


End file.
